Four Months Later
We’re in Casper for the Wyoming Junior Rodeo Association Barrel Racing Championship, and the whole arena smells like dust, leather, and adrenaline. The stands are packed, the announcer’s voice booming through the speakers, and I swear my heart is beating just as fast as the horses’ hooves out there.
Ruby is making her first-ever peewee barrel racing debut during the next intermission.
I go down to the back to help her get ready, kneeling in front of her tiny boots and straightening her helmet. She looks so small in all this noise and spectacle, but her eyes are bright and determined.
“You remember what we practiced?” I ask.
She nods seriously. “Make a pocket. Don’t run straight at the barrel.”
I grin. “That’s my girl.”
Waylon stands beside us, one hand on Honey’s lead rope. He looks nervous in that quiet, focused way he gets in the arena.
“You’re gonna be amazing, Ruby,” he tells her.
She beams at him, then throws her arms around my neck. “Thanks, Shelby.”
My throat tightens as I hug her back. “Go show them how it’s done, kid.”
I hurry back up to the stands, sliding into my seat beside Charli, with Priscilla, Holland, and Daddy flanking us.
“They’re about to announce them,” I say, breathless.
The announcer’s voice crackles over the loudspeaker. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have our peewee exhibition riders! First up, please welcome Ruby Ludlow—a first-time peewee barrel racer, trained by Shelby Storm out of Wildhaven, Wyoming—riding her pony, Honey, and being led by her father, Waylon!”
My heart practically explodes in my chest.
Ruby rides out into the arena like she owns it, sitting tall in the saddle, her tiny hands holding the reins, just like I taught her. Honey prances beneath her, ears forward, ready to go. Waylon jogs beside them, holding the lead rope, grinning like a proud daddy.
The buzzer sounds.
They’re off.
Ruby leans forward, hair bouncing beneath her helmet, laughing as Honey trots and then speeds up just a little. They circle the first barrel perfectly, just like we practiced. Waylon keeps pace, guiding her through the pattern, but it’s Ruby doing the steering, her small hands working the reins with surprising confidence.
The crowd starts clapping in rhythm as they head for the second barrel.
“She’s doing so good!” Charli shouts.
They round the third barrel and head for home, Honey picking up speed, Ruby squealing with joy as they cross the line.
The arena erupts.
We’re all on our feet, cheering like maniacs, Daddy whistling, Charli screaming, Priscilla wiping her eyes. Waylon scoops Ruby up in his arms, spinning her around while she laughs so hard that she can barely breathe.
Behind us, I hear a group of women giggling.
“Wow,” one of them says. “That little girl’s daddy is … something else.”
I smile to myself, eyes never leaving the man in the arena as he holds his daughter like she’s the greatest prize in the world.
His eyes find mine in the stands, and he mouths,I love you.
Yeah …
He sure is.
